


Hāʻule Lau (Fallen Leaves)

by flowerfan



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Love, M/M, Recovery, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-19 18:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19978321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: The radiation poisoning Steve suffered years ago has finally caught up with him.  But they're getting through it, together.





	1. Chapter 1

Danny shifts between Steve’s legs, running a hand up Steve’s hip and over his chest. Steve’s dick is a warm weight in his mouth, but despite Danny’s efforts, he’s not getting very hard. Danny adjusts his angle and works it a little more, sliding his tongue encouragingly around the tip and back down the way Steve likes, but his jaw is getting tired and he can tell from the tension in Steve’s body that this is going nowhere.

“Enough, Danny,” Steve finally says, pushing at Danny’s head and rolling to the side. Danny sits back on his knees, searching for the right words. The radiation poisoning Steve suffered years ago has finally caught up with him, and the meds he’s taking are wreaking havoc in more ways than one.

They’ve been having more nights (and mornings) like this one lately, and it hurts Danny’s heart to see how upset it makes Steve. He’s tried to reassure him, show him that it doesn’t matter, but of course it does matter – it’s a sign that something is wrong with Steve’s body. That he’s sick. That he may not have forever.

Steve slides out of bed and leaves the room. Danny figures he’s going for a swim, so he takes a quick shower and then heads downstairs to make coffee. To his surprise, as he’s taking his first sip and wandering back out through the living room, he sees Steve down on the beach. He fills another mug and goes outside.

Steve’s sitting on the sand, amidst the scattered leaves and twigs. Erosion has whittled their little beach down to no more than a ten foot span, and they haven’t cleaned it up in a while. Danny stands next to him and holds out the coffee. Steve looks up and takes it, then stares back out at the water. His board shorts are dry. Apparently swimming isn’t happening today.

Danny sits next to him, easing his way down. His knee has been bothering him more and more lately, but it’s been the last thing on his mind since Steve started getting sick. He leaves space between himself and Steve, not a lot, but he knows Steve. Steve doesn’t want to be coddled; that would just make it worse.

“Gonna go to the hardware store,” Steve finally says. “Get the paint for the garage.”

“Charlie’s taking care of that next weekend,” Danny reminds him. 

“I want to do it today. Need some new brushes, too.” Steve gets up – still more graceful than Danny ever was – and heads for the car.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You maybe want to put on a shirt before you go shopping?”

Steve stills, looking down at himself. A grimace passes quickly over his face, before he pushes it back down with the rest of his pesky emotions, and shrugs. “Fine.”

Danny trails Steve into the house. He puts the coffee mugs in the sink and slides on his flip-flops, meeting Steve at the door. “I’ll come with,” he says to Steve. 

Steve drives, of course. Danny spends the ride looking up paint colors, commenting all the way on how many versions of white paint there are. “Just imagine if you were the jerk that had to keep coming up with new names for this stuff,” he says, trying to get a rise out of Steve, or at least a reaction. “Mountain Air, Chalk White, Promenade, Pegnoir – Pegnoir, really? Who’s going to paint their house the color of women’s lingerie?”

When they arrive at the store, Steve doesn’t leap out of the car like usual. Instead he leans forward, gripping the steering wheel, his forehead thumping down on his knuckles. 

“Hey,” Danny says softly. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” He reaches out to touch Steve on the shoulder, but Steve flinches and Danny pulls his hand back.

“Sorry,” Steve says, pressing his lips together. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t… I know you’re trying to…”  
Danny takes a deep breath and waits as Steve struggles.

“I’ve gotten too used to not being alone,” Steve says finally, and Danny’s chest tightens at the sadness in his voice. “I was good at it, when I was younger, I had plenty of practice. I took care of myself, you know? It was me against the world, I didn’t need anyone else, not really. But then,” Steve’s voice cracks, and he shakes his head. “Then came the team, and you, and… I got used to not being alone.”

“Steve, babe, I’m right here. You’re not alone,” Danny whispers, his throat tight.

“But I am.” Steve turns towards him, his eyes angry. “That’s what this disease has done to me. I’m alone again. I’m the only one this is happening too, no matter how much you want to help. It’s my body that’s falling apart, it’s me that can’t get it up. Not you, me. You can’t know how it feels.”

He’s right, and Danny can’t change that. It’s heartbreaking. Danny blinks pathetically at Steve for a long moment, grasping for something to say, but Steve just shakes his head again and gets out of the car.

That night, after Steve has fallen asleep (and that’s another thing that’s changed – Steve never used to sleep so deeply, or so much), Danny does some research.

The next morning Danny drives them halfway across the island, and pulls into the parking lot of a community center.

Steve looks up from where he’s been dozing against the window. “Where are we? You said you wanted to go out for breakfast…”

“I want a lot of things,” Danny mumbles under his breath, and then squares his shoulders. His plan has the potential to backfire, but he’s nothing if not stubborn. At least as stubborn as his husband.

“This, my friend, is a support group meeting. It starts in five minutes. Go inside, go down the stairs, there should be a sign on the first door to the right. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Steve glares at him. Danny doesn’t flinch. This is familiar. This is how they operate. Steve objects to a lot of things Danny suggests, but not when it’s important. That’s what Danny’s counting on today.

“Just give it a try,” Danny urges. “Once a week, for a few weeks, give it a chance.”

“You want me to just go in there and…?”

“Listen. Talk if you want to.”

“You think it will help,” Steve says flatly, squinting at Danny.

“Yeah. I think it might.”

Steve closes his eyes, tilts his head up, and seems to make up his mind. “Okay. But don’t wait here. I don’t need a chaperone.”

Danny grins. “I could argue with that, babe. But fine. I’ll be at the coffee shop down the block. Text me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

Steve nods and gets out of the car.

Almost two hours later, Danny gets a text.

_Thank you._


	2. Chapter 2

_Eighteen months later_

Steve sits on the bathroom floor, wiping his mouth and trying to catch his breath. Danny leans forward to flush the toilet, then settles back down next to Steve. He hands him a water bottle, and Steve takes it, arm shaking as he raises it to his mouth, swishes, and spits.

“Want a blanket?” Danny says after a few minutes. It’s not cold out – it’s summer in Hawaii – but Steve is shivering. He nods, and Danny gets up to retrieve the spare quilt from the bedroom. They’ve used it for this before. Steve will never look at it the same way again.

After a few more minutes, Danny stretches out his pajama-clad legs and sighs, then shoots a guilty look at Steve and tries to rearrange his face into something less miserable. It’s hard to do, though, at three in the morning, in the middle of another punishing round of chemo. The disease has made their lives into an endless cycle of hospital visits and days waiting to see how much more Steve can vomit.

Steve hates the expression that’s taken root on his husband’s face, a sorrowful mix of fear and worry and pity. It’s especially out of place now, this week, when he should be feeling only joy.

“I want you to go,” he says. It comes out too rough, his throat sore and aching, so he tries again. “Danny, I want you to go. Today.”

Danny blinks at him, brow furrowing, and then shakes his head. “No.”

“She’s having a c-section in two days. You should be there. You have to be there.”

Grace lives in L.A. now. She’s in her third year of grad school. She’s also pregnant with her first child, and about to pop. Steve knows that if he wasn’t sick, Danny would be there by her side, waving his hands and grinning and praising every damn thing about his little girl. But instead he’s here, in a cold, smelly bathroom, cleaning up Steve’s puke.

“I’m not leaving you, Steve. No. Forget it.”

Steve takes a deep breath, carefully easing the air in and out. His stomach is staying calm for the moment, so he slides a little closer to Danny. “Hey, listen to me,” he says, and catches Danny’s eye. “I’ll be okay here by myself for a few days. I will. The worst is over.”

Danny glares at him, and shakes his head again. “No.”

“You can’t just say ‘no’ over and over to me, Danny. That’s not an argument.”

“You can’t make me leave.”

Steve starts to respond, pales and coughs while he suppresses the urge to vomit again, and then pokes at Danny with his socked foot. “I’m still gonna be here in a few days, Danny. “ Hopefully not right here, he thinks. His butt aches from sitting on the tile floor. “As much fun as it is having you here with me, I really can get by without you for a little while. I can still drag myself to the bathroom and back, even if you’re in L.A. And if you miss this, the birth of Grace’s kid, your first grandchild….”

“What?” Danny challenges. “What’ll you do?”

“I’ll feel terrible,” Steve says bluntly. Steve feels pretty terrible all the time lately, and Danny knows it. But this, this is an entirely different ballgame. “Please, Danny. Do this for me. For Gracie. For you.”

Danny gazes at Steve, and Steve can only imagine what he’s thinking – that the dark circles under Steve’s eyes are getting larger every day, that the muscles in his arms are getting smaller. That his buzz cut is only a memory. “I don’t want to leave you,” Danny says, voice tight. 

“Come here.” Steve holds out his arms, and Danny sags into him, hands sliding under the blanket to find Steve’s clammy skin. “It’s gonna be okay, Danno. I’ll be okay alone for a little while. I can do this.”

Danny presses his face into Steve’s neck, shoulders shaking. Steve strokes his back, trying to keep his breathing regular, praying that the scent of Danny’s hair or laundry detergent or something else random doesn’t send him diving for the toilet for at least a few more minutes. He just wants to hold his husband for a little while, give him some comfort. It shouldn’t be too much to ask.

“Can Charlie come over?” Danny mumbles. Steve hears the hesitance in Danny’s voice, and mentally kicks himself in the ass. Steve has been clear about not wanting anyone to see him like this, and has rejected offers of help from family and friends for weeks. Possibly this wasn’t exactly fair to Danny.

“Yeah, Charlie can come over. Every day, if he wants. I’ll call Kamekona, too.”

Danny huffs out a laugh. “Shall I tell him to bring garlic shrimp? Or do you want the extra spicy kind?”

Steve groans, and pretends to reach for the toilet. Danny sits back in alarm, and then ducks his forehead against Steve’s chest, tiredly curling into his arms again. “I love you, babe. So much.”

 _Don’t die on me,_ Danny’s saying. _Don’t leave me._

“I love you too, Danny." _I won't. I'll try._ "Now, go book a flight.”

*****  
“God, I can’t believe how beautiful she is,” Steve says, leaning forward to try to get a closer look. Charlie picks up the tablet and holds it between them so they can see better. 

Grace’s daughter is without a doubt the most beautiful baby that has ever lived.

Steve’s been camped out on the couch all day, watching reality TV with Charlie and waiting for updates. He enjoys spending time with Charlie, he always has. Danny’s son has turned into a good looking young man, blond like Danny used to be and slight, but taller than his father and still growing. Charlie’s simultaneously skyping with Danny and texting someone else on his phone, never still for long. Just like his dad.

On the screen, Danny is sitting in a hospital rocking chair, holding a bundle of striped blanket with a little face peeking out. As beautiful as the infant is, Steve thinks the joy on Danny’s face is even more beautiful. Radiant, even. He’ll keep that thought to himself.

“I can’t believe Grace still hasn’t named her,” Charlie is saying, and Steve forces himself to focus on the conversation.

“It’s an important decision,” Danny says, his voice quiet so as not to wake the baby. “But she did finally make up her mind.” There’s a twinkle in his eye that comes through even over skype, and Steve bites his lip in anticipation.

“She did? What’s her name?” Charlie asks.

“Stephanie Danielle,” Danny says.

“What?” Charlie shrieks, sounding like a six year old again. “That’s – no way!”

Danny’s grinning, and Steve grins back. He knows where this is going.

“Why does she get to be named for you guys? Why not… Charli-ana, or…”

“I think you’re looking for Charlotte,” Steve says under his breath to Charlie, and Charlie nods.

“Yeah, why not Charlotte? And wow, mom’s gonna be pissed, so pissed, Grace can’t really play favorites like that, can she?”

Danny is practically snorting now, trying not to laugh, and Steve loves it so much, this playful side of Danny that hasn’t had a chance to show itself much these days.

“I’m just kidding,” Danny finally says, and Charlie deflates.

“Oh. That’s good.” Charlies pouts. “So, did she name her or not?”

“She’s narrowed it down to Kayla or Justine. Or possibly Maribelle.”

Charlie frowns. “Really?”

Danny grins again. “No. She won’t tell me yet, she wants to tell us all together. But between you and me, I heard her talking to the nurse, and I think she’s going with Annie.”

“Annie,” Steve says, nodding. “That’s really nice.”

“Yeah,” says Danny. “I thought so.” Danny shifts a little, his gaze going down to look at the baby, and then back up at them. “Hey, Charlie, give me a minute with Steve?”

“Sure, no problem.” Charlie stands up from the couch, long limbs arranging themselves with ease, and wanders into the kitchen. The only problem with having Charlie around is that he eats like a horse, and Steve and food don’t really get along. Steve is tempted to unplug the microwave in his defense but the smell in the kitchen is even stronger, and he doesn’t think he should risk it. Maybe tomorrow.

“So babe, how’re you doing?” All joking has been set aside.

“I’m okay, Danny, really.”

“How’d you sleep? You keeping anything down?”

Steve doesn’t answer, and wishes he didn’t have to see Danny’s face fall. But he’s not about to lie.

“That bad?”

“It’ll be better tonight. And I napped a little this afternoon. Drank some water.”

Danny nods. “You look comfy.”

Steve’s covered in blankets, extra pillows piled around him. “Charlie’s looking out for me. He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” Danny looks down at the baby again, and back up at Steve, a little of that joy returning to his face. “I can’t believe it. Grace made a baby. And she’s so gorgeous.”

“She really is. And Grace is, too.”

Danny beams. “She is. Grace was just amazing. So calm, and so strong. You should have seen her, Steve.”

“I will,” Steve says. “Next time you visit. I’ll be with you.”

Danny’s smile flickers, and Steve feels a shiver run down his spine. “Promise?”

Steve knows he can’t, knows he shouldn’t. There’s no way to predict how this will go, whether he’ll recover from this or not. But he’s seized with a sudden confidence, a determination he hasn’t felt in a long time. He wants to fight. He wants to be there for Danny, for their marriage, and for their life together. For Grace and Charlie, and for this beautiful little baby.

So he sends out a prayer to the universe, and looks his husband in the eye. “Yeah, Danno. I promise.”


	3. Chapter 3

Danny’s at the dining room table, tabbing back and forth on his laptop between real estate listings and a detailed email to Grace. She’s moving back to the island in a few months, and he’ll be damned if he can’t help her find the perfect place to live. Someplace with a nice yard for Annie, and not too far from her job at the university, or from him and Steve. 

Steve.

And with that, Danny loses his focus on house hunting and feels that familiar ache start up again. On a good day, he can barely go ten minutes without worrying about Steve, but today it’s been even worse. Tomorrow they’ve got an important visit with Steve’s doctor.

It has to go well, Danny thinks. It has to. Not just because they’d like it to; they need it to. Danny doesn’t think Steve can make it through any more treatment. 

Steve tries to be upbeat, to be optimistic. He works hard to put on a good front for Danny. But Danny sees how he folds when he thinks Danny isn’t watching. 

Steve shifts on the couch, and Danny immediately goes over to him, perching himself on the coffee table, a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve can be disoriented when he wakes up from a nap. Ever since he panicked and fell off the couch, Danny’s tried to keep a closer eye on him. The moment Steve stopped protesting and gave in to Danny’s constant hovering Danny had to step away – the irony of it all – and go pound his fist on the bathroom sink for a minute, cursing at yet another sign of how this disease was eating away at his husband.

Steve blinks as he wakes, and carefully sits up. His strength has slowly been returning this past month since his last treatment ended. He’s a less tentative with his movements now, a shadow of his old confidence returning. But there’s an undercurrent of fear to every positive development – they both know Steve’s might only be feeling better because the meds have stopped, not necessarily because the cancer is gone. While his scans had looked good a month ago, the big question is what’s happened since then.

Danny sits next to Steve on the couch and presses himself against Steve’s arm. Steve sighs and leans his head on Danny’s shoulder.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me I have to eat dinner,” Steve says eventually, a hint of warmth in his rough voice.

“That’s generally what people do, this time of day,” Danny replies.

“Boring.”

“I could make pancakes.”

Steve twists and smiles at Danny, his eyes heartbreakingly bright. “Yeah? I’d eat pancakes.”

Steve excuses himself to the bathroom while Danny goes into the kitchen to get started. He refrains from watching the clock, or standing outside the bathroom door to make sure that Steve hasn’t fallen down and cracked his head open on the sink, and by the time he’s got the batter made up Steve has joined him in the kitchen.

“I want chocolate chips,” Steve says, examining the batter. “And walnuts.”

“Yes, sir,” Danny says. “Stir this, I’ll see what I can find.” The batter doesn’t really need stirring, but it gives Steve something to do, and he accepts the bowl and spoon. Danny tugs the chocolate chips out of the back of the pantry and hands them to Steve, who dumps a huge pile into the batter. 

“Those are going to be more chip than pancake,” Danny comments, lifting cereal boxes out of the way as he searches for walnuts.

“It’s okay. Sounds good. I haven’t had pancakes in a while.”

Danny freezes with one hand on the pantry door. When did he last make pancakes for Steve? Did he put the right amount of chocolate chips in that time? What if this is the last time he makes pancakes for him – what if he never has a chance to get it right?

“Danny?” Steve puts a hand on his shoulder.

“We don’t have any walnuts,” Danny chokes out. Steve moves closer, his hand squeezing tighter. 

“It’s alright,” Steve says. “It’ll be fine. Danny. It’s fine.”

Neither of them are talking about the pancakes anymore.

After their pancake dinner, Danny makes Steve sit with him and look at the houses he’s marked as possibilities for Grace. Steve has strong opinions about neighborhoods and school districts. He’s distressed to learn that – shocker – things have changed since he was in elementary school, and he doesn’t automatically know which sections of town feed into which schools. 

“At some point you’re going to let Grace weigh in on this too, right?” Steve asks, paging through Danny’s careful notes. “And maybe Mike?” 

Mike is Grace’s husband, a tall, dark-haired young man, with an easy sense of humor hidden under a quiet demeanor. He’s also a pediatrician, which helps calm Danny’s nerves about Annie – she’s clearly in good hands.

“Nah,” Danny says, smirking. “Mike knows better than to argue with me. Although,” Danny sits back in his chair and frowns, “it probably makes school districts irrelevant.”

“You think they’ll send her to private school?” Steve asks.

Danny shrugs. “Probably.” They spend a few more minutes looking at houses, debating whether having a master bedroom on the first floor is a good or bad idea with a baby in the house, and then Steve yawns, an impressive jaw-cracking display.

“Bed?” Danny asks.

A nervous look passes over Steve’s face, because going to sleep means waking up and facing tomorrow.

“I’ll come with you,” Danny says, and Steve nods.

“Thanks,” he says softly. 

They put on sleep pants and t-shirts and climb under the covers. Steve shifts around for a while, having trouble getting comfortable, and finally Danny just grabs him and hugs him tight. The hair growing back on Steve’s head is soft against Danny’s cheek.

Steve falls asleep quickly, rolling away from Danny, so Danny texts with Grace for a while. When he finally drifts off, he dreams of Grace showing him her new house, a castle on a mountaintop, with labyrinthine halls leading to a giant bedroom with windows stretching from floor to ceiling. Steve is lounging on the canopied bed, healthy and strong and full of mischief. It’s a good dream.

Danny wakes to an empty room. He glances at the clock – it’s only two a.m. – and shuffles out of bed. Steve is just outside, on the upstairs lanai. He’s leaning on the rail, looking out towards the dark water.

“Hey,” Danny says quietly from the doorway. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m fine,” Steve says firmly. “Go back to sleep, Danny.”

Danny hesitates. It’s been a constant challenge for him since this whole thing began, knowing when to give Steve the space he asks for, and when to push through Steve’s walls. But right now, even though Steve might be stressed and worried, he’s got good reason, and he’s safe enough only ten feet away from Danny.

“You’ll let me know if you want company?” Danny asks.

Steve turns to face him, but the night is cloudy and Danny can’t make out his expression. “Yeah, Danno. Thanks.”

The next morning Steve comes downstairs wearing cargo pants and a dark blue short-sleeve button-up, instead of his usual sweats and t-shirt. It’s like a flashback to a better time. Danny doesn’t mention how the pants are hanging off him, just gives him a big hug and a sloppy kiss on his freshly shaven cheek. “You look great, babe,” Danny says into his ear, and Steve shrugs him off.

Danny still grabs Steve’s jacket when they head to the car. Steve may want to fake it ‘til he makes it, but Danny isn’t going to let him catch a chill in the doctor’s office.

They’re ridiculously early for their meeting with the oncologist, but when Danny tries to distract Steve with a dumb game on his phone, Steve just glares at him. Fine, he thinks, work yourself up into a panic, see if I care.

This doesn’t work, of course, because he does care. Danny’s contemplating having Grace call Steve and put Annie on the phone when the receptionist finally tells them it’s their turn.

They sit in the chairs facing the doctor’s desk, and Danny grabs Steve’s hand. Steve doesn’t protest. 

“I’ll get right to it,” Dr. Akana says, and Danny feels like all the blood is draining from his body. “It’s good news. There’s no evidence of disease.”

She keeps talking, but Danny doesn’t hear her, only those miraculous words echoing over and over. _No evidence of disease._ It’s the best possible finding at this point. It’s Steve’s best chance at lasting remission.

Danny feels Steve’s grip on his hand tighten. Steve’s staring intently at his knees, and he’s sucking in deep breaths of air.

“Hey, hey,” Danny says, scooting closer to put a hand on Steve’s back. Steve looks up at him, his eyes wide. “She said it’s good. It’s good. You’re gonna be okay.”

Dr. Akana comes around and crouches down next to Steve, talking to him quietly. When he calms, she stands and smiles at them. “I’m sure you’ll have a lot of questions for me, and I have some instructions for you. But for now, go home, get some rest. Give me a call later this afternoon, or tomorrow, whenever you’re ready.”

The walk from the doctor’s office out to the car is a blur, Danny hardly aware of anything but Steve’s hand in his. When they climb into the car and sit down, neither of them move for a minute.

“No more chemo?” Steve finally asks, as if to make sure he got it right.

“No more chemo,” Danny replies. Not now, anyway. Not for as long as things stay this way. Steve’ll have to come back in three months for more tests, but for now -- _no evidence of disease._

They drive home in silence, Steve tapping his fingers on his knee, and then grabbing Danny’s hand again. Danny squeezes it, and Steve shoots him a glance, a quick smile that fades away almost immediately.

“Wanna stop for something to eat?” Danny asks, as they approach the stretch of road with Steve’s favorite diner. 

Steve shakes his head. “Just want to go home.”

Danny agrees. He still feels like he’s almost shaking, like the adrenaline rush after a firefight. 

Inside the house, Steve stands in the living room, hands thrust into his pockets. He looks lost. Danny gets him a glass of water from the kitchen, and Steve nods his thanks, drinking it down in long gulps. He sees Steve stare at the empty glass, almost in disbelief, as if he’s surprised he managed to drink it all.

“You’re stronger already,” Danny says quietly. “And you’re gonna keep getting stronger.”

Steve lets the glass hang from his fingers and looks up at Danny. “I can’t believe it.”

Danny takes the glass and puts it on the coffee table, then reaches for Steve. “I know.” He puts his arms around him, hands going up around his neck and pulling him close. “But you did it. You made it through. The cancer’s gone.”

Steve sags against Danny. He falls back on the couch, bringing Danny with him in a tangled heap, and buries his head in Danny’s neck.

“What is it, babe?” 

There’s a long pause, and Danny hopes Steve will give him an answer, talk about whatever’s going on in that brain of his. If he doesn’t, that’s okay too. Danny not sure he can articulate what’s going on in his own head right now.

“Danny… I’m still so scared.”

Danny clutches at Steve, tugging at him until they are more or less lying on the couch, wrapped up together. “Me too.”

They lay there like that for a little while, breathing into each other’s skin. Danny doesn’t notice when he starts to feel less like he’s about to dissolve, but eventually Steve shifts and pushes up on an elbow. His eyes are red, but his gaze is clear.

“We’re a pair of idiots, aren’t we?” Steve asks, fondly brushing a finger against the buzzed hair over Danny’s ear.

“Nah.” Danny presses a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “We’re alright.”

“We’re alright,” Steve repeats. “We’re alright,” he says again, with more conviction. “So why are we…?” 

Danny shrugs. He’s gotten used to the tsunami of emotions being with Steve brings. Given what they’ve been through lately, he’s going to cut them a break. They’ve been scared for so long, they can’t expect it to go away in an instant.

And right now, he doesn’t want to dwell on it. Because suddenly there’s a light in Steve’s eyes that Danny hasn’t seen a while, and that deserves to be acknowledged. “What, you think we should be celebrating?”

“Maybe.” 

Danny sits up, hands still stroking down Steve’s body. He doesn’t really want to let go. “What did you have in mind? Steaks on the grill? I could run to the store. Get some beer, too.” It’s been ages since they’ve kept beer in the house.

Steve smiles at him, a little shy. “I was actually thinking of something else.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Danny stands and yanks Steve up the stairs. He’d apologize, backtrack and reassure Steve that no, of course he isn’t desperately horny after going so long without, but Steve is grinning like a madman and employing all his ninja skills to get Danny’s shirt off before they even make it to the bedroom. Danny trips himself getting out of his pants, and Steve grabs him, thumbs digging into his hips and divesting him of his boxers at record speed.

Steve gets naked too, with Danny’s help, and they both dive into bed, eyes and hands roaming over sensitized skin. There’s a moment when Steve stalls as Danny runs a hand down his chest. Danny knows without asking that Steve is worried about how he looks, skinny as a teenager and lacking all the gorgeous muscles he used to be so proud of. But Danny kisses his collarbone, murmuring “love you” and “beautiful” as he nips and teases, and Steve relaxes into his touch.

Working his way down, Danny licks and sucks on Steve’s nipple, playing the other with his fingers. Steve digs his fingers into Danny’s ass, and Danny’s whole body throbs in response. Danny isn’t sure, really, how far this is going to go, despite the frenzy they’re both in, but then Steve’s hips thrust up at him and he zones out. Steve gets a hand around his cock, firm and sure, and starts to stroke. Danny hears himself keen with pleasure, and Steve gives a soft laugh in triumph.

After a few more minutes Steve rolls them so Danny is on his back, and Danny feels Steve’s length press against his side. He’s hard, and Danny has to pause for a minute, slow down and grab Steve’s face with both hands and kiss him with all he’s got. Steve kisses back hot and fierce, sliding over Danny until they’re both pressed together, rocking and grinding until sparks are shooting across Danny’s vision and he’s coming in a wet gush.

“Oh fuck, oh my god, you’re amazing,” Danny breaths out, sliding a hand down to find Steve’s cock, hard and leaking. “Your turn, come on, come for me, babe, you can do it.” 

Steve is leaning over Danny, panting and thrusting into Danny’s hand, and then he comes with a long moan. He collapses on top of Danny, still shaking, and Danny pets him, hands in his hair and sliding down his back in smooth strokes.

“Holy crap, babe,” Danny says, still catching his breath. “I did not expect that. That was… fantastic. Wow.” He cups Steve’s face, runs a thumb over his eyebrow. “You okay?”

Steve opens his eyes and blinks at Danny. “Yeah, Danno. Yeah.” He beams, and there’s no better sight in the world. “I’m okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I saw on tumblr today a neat post about commenting on fic, and how some readers don't know if a comment would be welcome, so authors should let them know. In that vein - I welcome and adore comments, of any length, short or long, and will always respond. Comments make my day. Also feel free to come chat with me on tumblr, where I'm flowerfan2.
> 
> (And thank you for reading, whether you comment or not). :hugs:


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